I would like to tell you a story. It’s the story of two people who are very near and dear to my heart.
The story begins with a young enby named Willow. Willow was an unwanted child. Their father was a well-off businessman who was worried about what a child would do to his prospective future. When their mother wouldn’t abort like he demanded, he pulled up stakes and moved to Minnesota, abandoning both mother and child.
Thus Willow was born to a single mother who resented them. As they grew up, abusive stepfathers came and went, leaving siblings in their wake. The middle child became their mother’s favorite and was doted on incessantly, while their mother never forgave Willow for the crime of existing.
Things didn’t get easier for Willow when, at the age of 7, they were diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and synesthesia. This translated into psychological and pharmaceutical bills, which translated into more resentment.
It was a hard condition for a 7-year-old to manage. Hell, it’s a hard condition for an adult to manage. They would spend the rest of their life plagued by hallucinations. Haunted by intrusive voices and thoughts that hated them, urging self-harm and suicide. Insomnia that kept them from sleeping more than a few hours at night, and night terrors assailing them in their dreams.
It was not an easy childhood. More than once, Willow would go hungry to ensure their sisters ate. More than once, Willow left home to panhandle on street corners to try and help their mom make ends meet. And more than once, Willow would spend weeks or months finding friends to stay with, to escape their mother’s mistreatment.
That’s where I met them, in fact. We had met at a Magic: The Gathering event. They were 17 pretending to be 19 to avoid uncomfortable questions about why they can’t go home. I was in my early 20’s and had a poorly furnished one bedroom apartment, but I offered them my couch to crash on, and this stray cat I took in wound up becoming a dear friend for life. But this story isn’t about me.
Life did not get easier for Willow when they became an adult. They graduated high school and entered college, only to find out the hard way that the adult world didn’t want them. Few jobs will give your resume a second look once they see the words “paranoid schizophrenia” on your record. College was going to be a lot of money for a degree they weren’t allowed to use, so they dropped out.
Their mother had racked up debts in their name, which destroyed their credit and made it impossible to get an apartment or a loan. Medicare, for reasons I still cannot fathom to this day, denied them coverage for their mental welfare. The lithium antipsychotic they’d been on was poisoning them, forcing them to go off meds and seek another way to manage their condition. They were wracked with insomnia during their waking hours and night terrors in the short time they could sleep.
They entered adulthood only to find every door closed to them and even more thorns than childhood had wrought. Even into their 20’s, they were forced to crash on couches and lean on the charity of others. The world did not want them any more than their family had.
But they weren’t alone anymore. They had friends, some fickle but others who cared enough to offer sincere help. And more than anyone, they had her.
Her name is Ally, and she became the love of Willow’s life. A bottomless well of generosity. She didn’t have much in terms of material wealth to share, having also left college for financial reasons and resorted to working at a supermarket to make ends meet. But she took Willow into her home and introduced them to a boundless love the likes of which they’d never known.
In Ally, Willow discovered kindness. They found patience. They started eating, and Ally, a woman whose greatest passion was to cook and to provide, made sure with every day that they were fed well. They found someone who could help them when the hallucinations got too hard to bear, without ever judging or making them feel like a burden.
In Ally’s arms, they could finally sleep. The comfort she provided soothed away their insomnia. The night terrors were still there. They would always be there. But it was sleep nonetheless.
In Ally, Willow finally found a home. A place where they were wanted. A place where they were loved. Ally worked three jobs to make sure they would always have a roof over their head, and still cooked wonderful meals night after night to keep them fed.
Ally and Willow married in 2016. And they have had so many great years together. As someone who’s known Willow for almost 15 years, I can honestly say I’ve never seen them happier.
I wish I could say this is where the story ends.
Early this year, Ally, this wonderful woman, was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer. She’s been put out of work and is undergoing chemo before surgery and radiation, and she’s struggling to make ends meet.
Once upon a time, Ally dreamed of owning a food truck where she and Willow could work together. Now she goes to weekly chemotherapy treatments while trying to figure out how she’s going to continue to support her beloved disabled spouse. And it gets harder with every passing month.
I’m doing everything I can for them, but it’s not enough. They need more help than I can provide. Ally’s GoFundMe can be found here. She’s not asking for much. We all have our struggles and I wouldn’t ask anyone to give any more than they’re able. But if there is anything you can do, please help this story find a happy ending.
alison-candiloro
